


Suckers for Happy Endings

by Michelle_A_Emerlind



Series: A Story to Suck You In (i.e. Octopus!Rick) [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Caring Daryl, Cute Octopus, Explicit Language, Explict Octopus Langauge, Fluff, Fluff Fic, Just Nice and Cute, M/M, No Tentacle Sex, Octopus, Octopus!Rick, Rage Octopus, cute fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-31
Updated: 2015-03-31
Packaged: 2018-03-20 14:41:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3654195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michelle_A_Emerlind/pseuds/Michelle_A_Emerlind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick meets Daryl at the quarry, he becomes incredibly angry and that anger does something very strange to him indeed...it turns him into a rage octopus. Literally. But after his transformation, no one will pay attention to him and octopuses need special care! Good thing Daryl is there to step in and help Rick adjust to his change and maybe, just maybe, help him find a cure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Suckers for Happy Endings

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is set in Season 1 at the quarry. I have canon diverged some details and have expanded the time at the quarry to give this fic room to inhabit. This fic is meant to be in the same universe as [How Am I Going to Be An Octopus About This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3622287) (Suckers is a prequel), but I have intentionally made this able to stand on its own. 
> 
> Thanks to the lovely skarlatha for betaing and for being the guinea pig over how much cuteness is TOO much cuteness (hint--there is not such a thing, so prepare for octopus teeth rotting fluff).

Daryl was pissed beyond imagination. He was hot, sweating, and the Georgia woods hadn’t been very kind to him with the scratches and pricks he’d gotten from various sets of brambles and one unlucky encounter with a raccoon. The squirrels dangling from his shoulder kept sticking to his skin--the fur melding with the sweat on his biceps and the deer he had fucking _chased_ throughout the entire morning was now useless and infected with Walker guts. Not to mention that his brother was dead. Or not dead. He couldn’t decide what was worse.

And the man who had _left_ his brother in Atlanta, chained to a roof, was currently standing in front of him, dumbass baggy shirt hanging loose in the wind, a thin line on his face that just spoke of his incredible and utter douchebaggery. Daryl had had enough. He threw the squirrels at Rick, hoping they would land across his face and when the man jerked to the side, Daryl threw his body weight into coming at him. He saw the rage flit briefly over Rick’s face, saw the deep seated anger there and then Shane slammed into Daryl’s side, toppling him over.

Daryl wasn’t done though. He grabbed his knife and stood and before Shane could grab him, Daryl lunged. Rick jerked away from the knife in Daryl’s hand and, spitting in anger, came at him again. Daryl prepared to turn this into a real fight when something came over Rick. Daryl blinked and watched the ex-cop’s body shake and his face get redder than any man’s should ever get. And then with an audible _poof!_ and a second of smoke, there was no longer a man standing in front of him. Instead, wiggling on the ground, all tentacles waving in the air madly...was an octopus.

Daryl widened his eyes and blinked, stumbling back hard. He tripped over the fallen squirrels and landed on his back, staring saucer-eyed and frantic at the--no, his brain supplied, it still hadn’t changed-- _octopus_ in front of him, about a foot long in body with two-feet-long tentacles and red as a fucking cherry. Someone behind Daryl screamed (he thought it was probably Rick’s wife, Lori) and he heard the thud of a fainting sound quickly following it. Shane, who had been approaching the fight, jumped back like he’d been smacked over the head with a beer bottle and stared at Rick with eyes so wide they might as well have been two of Jupiter’s moons.

Daryl would have laughed at the utter ridiculousness of the fact that in the middle of a zombie apocalypse a man had turned into a sea creature right in front of his eyes if it hadn’t been for the tentacles now grasped firmly around his throat and starting to choke him. Daryl could swear he saw _rage and anger_ filling up the little beady octopus eyes that stared down at him as two tentacles sucked to his sides, holding him down, two strangled him, and the other four just started beating him like little bitty whips slapping down across his body.

Daryl decided he would deal with the weirdness later, but right now, he needed to fight. So he punched the octopus. In the eye. It squealed unhappily and started to slash its tentacles down onto his chest and it was then that Shane grabbed it and tried to pull it off of Daryl. The tentacles strained in pure determination to stay around Daryl’s neck, pulling themselves out to be a lot longer than the two feet that they should have been and then with an audible _snap_ , Shane and the octopus stumbled away from Daryl.

Daryl started coughing and clutched at his throat, glaring at Shane and the ex-cop, ex-human ocean monster that Shane was now trying to talk some sense into. Daryl blinked and then with a shove stood up, grabbed his damn squirrels, and headed back into the forest.

***

Later that day when Daryl returned, there was still an octopus rushing around the camp like a little bitty cheetah, breaking things and causing havoc. Daryl frowned and was about to stomp back into the woods again, when Shane cornered him up against a tree, eyebrows in his hairline. “Look I don’t know what you did to my friend, but he’s full of a lot of rage right now and, if you can’t tell, some tentacles and shit, so I would stay away from him, man, I really would.” As if Daryl was going to go anywhere near close to that thing. Daryl scoffed, but nodded and Shane continued. “Look, uh, Glenn and T are going back for Merle and a bag of guns that Rick dropped. Thought you might want to know.”

Daryl frowned at how the bag of guns was thrown in there like it was the real priority, but he nodded again and stormed up to the van that Glenn and T-Dog were currently sitting in. He dropped the squirrels that he was still carrying off by Andrea’s feet and as he turned around to step into the van, he paused. A red gelatinous blob of a no-bones sea monstrosity was sitting in the back of the van currently examining its own tentacles in what seemed like curiosity.

Daryl looked at the octopus. The octopus looked at Daryl. Daryl grunted. The octopus narrowed its eyes.

And then, an explosion of sounds. “PLEBLUP!” Rick yelled and pointed a tentacle hard in his direction. “Bledo mubo dulobu! Plede dobdudeo! Blo--”

“You look like an idiot,” Daryl told it and if an octopus could look offended, this one certainly did. It launched itself at Daryl, but Daryl grabbed it in midair and tossed it over his shoulder, feeling very satisfied at the squishy little noise it made when it hit the ground.

Daryl took a step to go into the van, but the little fucker moved fast and Rick launched himself at the van back opening, splaying out his tentacles and stretching them as far as he could go, clinging to the opening of the van and creating an effective gate barrier so that Daryl couldn’t enter. Daryl narrowed his eyes and looked at the web of cherry tentacles blocking his path. He tried to slip between two of them but before he could get all the way in, one tentacle lifted and smacked down so hard on his head he could see stars. “MOTHER-FER!” he yelled and grabbed at his head, glaring at Rick. “STOP THAT, YOU LITTLE PISSANT.”

But Rick remained solid steel, clinging to the van and not letting Daryl in. Daryl glared. This meant business. He reared back and then slammed his hand forward, poking the octopus in its two beady eyes. Rick squeaked and immediately dropped all of his tentacles, falling into a little ball of crumpled squish, rubbing at his eyes. Daryl stepped easily past him and sat in the corner of the van with his crossbow. He banged at the back of Glenn’s seat and told him to gun it and with one final look at T-Dog, Glenn pulled the van into gear.

Rick whirled around and glared at Daryl, two of his tentacles up in defensive posturing. And then he stuck his head up into the air and if he had a nose, Daryl was sure it would be in the prime snobbish position. He reached up and grabbed the handle of the back door and tugged it down with one tentacle, locking it in place and then turned his back to Daryl, crossing two tentacles in front of him like arms across his chest.

Daryl thought that Rick was damn near insufferable and was about to start grumbling about it when they hit a bump. Rick’s little body flew up into the air and Daryl let out a bark of laughter as Rick fell back to the van floor, his tentacles splayed in front of him. Rick blinked with wide little octopus eyes and before he had any control in the matter, he started sliding as they rounded a corner. He squeaked and tried to grab for purchase, but apparently tentacles didn't work well in a van because he started slipping and sliding everywhere, looking freaked out and very much out of his element.

As Rick slid past him the second time, Daryl sighed and took pity on the poor creature. He picked Rick up in his hand as Rick tumbled past and held him out in the air, his hand and arm covered in tentacles and the bumpy feel of octopus skin. “Truce?” he said to the mass of red.

Daryl felt Rick’s body expand into a little bubble in a hefty sigh. Rick brought up two tentacles and used them to create a shrugging motion. “Ub.” He said.

Daryl blinked. “Is ‘ub’ yes?”

“Ub,” Rick said defiantly and when Daryl arched an eyebrow, he nodded his head, which looked squishy and uncomfortable.

“Fine,” Daryl said. “Don’t bite me and keep your limbs to yourself.” And with that he dropped Rick straight into his lap. Rick made lots of little blubbing sounds, but splayed his tentacles out across Daryl’s knees and settled down relatively contentedly, the bumps and turns no longer sending him into chaotic spins across the van floor.

***

Glenn parked when they got close to the city and murmured that they would walk from here. Daryl watched as T-Dog and Glenn slipped out of the truck and hoisted their weapons, scanning the area. Daryl grunted to himself and stood up, dusting the octopus out of his lap. Rick blinked up at him, but then scurried to the entrance and waited for Daryl to open the back. Daryl jumped down onto the train tracks below them and heard the squishy sound of Rick following.

Glenn led the group and they headed out, walking at a fast pace to get to Merle quickly. They made it nearly half a mile before Daryl paused, his ears registering something unusual. He blinked when he realized there was no longer the patpatpat of tentacles along the concrete and craned his head backwards. Far behind them, Rick was rushing forward, trying to keep up. He was a fast little sucker, but Daryl figured that while they had been on the verge of jogging, Rick must have been on the verge of running and his stamina was starting to wear down.

Daryl whistled to Glenn and T-Dog. “Someone should carry him.”

T-Dog looked back at Rick, his eyes wide and disgusted. “Man, I don’t like slimy things. I’m not picking him up.”

Daryl looked at Glenn and Glenn shook his head fast. “No way, man. No way.”

Daryl scoffed. “Pussies,” he said as he turned and walked back, meeting Rick halfway. When he got within reach, he bent down and scooped Rick up, throwing him over his shoulder so that Rick landed splayed across the crossbow at Daryl’s back. Rick made a little blurping sound and Daryl turned and started walking. He slid in between Glenn and T-Dog, who both flinched back at the tentacles. “It’s just a damn octopus.”

They headed further into the city and as they walked, Rick adjusted himself, dangling three tentacles over Daryl’s shoulder and curling the others around the crossbow to hang on. “Better jump off it if I need it,” Daryl told Rick and Rick said “ub!” right into his ear. Daryl shook his head. “Don’t know why in the hell they let an octopus come on the run anyway.” Rick made a low squeaky sound in his throat (did octopuses have throats?) and sucker punched Daryl right in the neck. “OW!” Daryl yelled and was just about to claw the whiny little cephalopod off his shoulder when Glenn yelled “SHUSH!” and pointed at a Walker who had just seen them.

Rick stilled for a millisecond and then, as if remembering his duty, scurried over Daryl’s head to Daryl’s other shoulder at the same time that Daryl whipped the crossbow out in front of him and, after just a second’s pause of aim, let the bolt fly right into the woman’s temple. T-Dog blinked at him rapidly and when Daryl snapped off “ _what_?” he shook his head.

“Just, uh....you know, thinking about how if you told me a month ago I would be staring at a redneck with an octopus on his shoulder shooting a zombie with a crossbow, I would have asked you what kind of drugs you had and if I could have got some.”

Daryl grunted at that, but he had to admit that T-Dog had a point. “Let’s stop yapping,” he said. “And go find Merle.”

***

They made their way through the city to the building that Rick and company had so recently vacated and after taking care of a Walker on the lower level, they rushed up the stairs to the still dead-bolted door. Daryl reached across to his own shoulder and picked Rick up under his body and Rick detangled his tentacles for him so that Daryl could deposit him on the ground and lift his crossbow in preparation for whatever they were going to find. Daryl paced and waited as T-Dog cut the chain and the second it was free, Daryl kicked in the door and rushed forward onto the open space of the roof. T-Dog and Glenn followed and Rick ran across the ground behind them.

Daryl hit the lower section of the roof and paused there, taking in the handcuffs still chained to the roof, the sawblade...and the cold lump of flesh that was what was left of Merle’s hand. “No,” Daryl called in anger, letting the feelings of loss and abandonment seep into his stomach and settle there, like heavy sediment at the bottom of a creek. He whirled around and aimed the crossbow at the T-Dog, letting a loop of _blame_ cascade through his thoughts-- _this man dropped the key. This man is why Merle is gone. This man is why Merle is probably dead._

His finger was heavy on the trigger, but before he could either pull it or set it down, Rick launched himself at the crossbow, grabbing it with one tentacle and pulling himself up so that the crossbow bent with the weight of Rick’s body on it. Daryl found himself staring into beady eyes and as he tried to aim the crossbow past Rick, Rick got in the way, angling his body so that the bolt was now pressed to his head. Daryl imagined the splatter of octopus guts, the tentacles twitching and dying. Part of him wanted to do it, to just let the bolt go and take his own knife to T-Dog’s head after in righteous justification for handcuffing his brother and leaving him. But that part of him was small and soon the cool waters of reason flooded over it, drowning out the rage ringing in his ears. He stared into the octopus’ eyes in front of him that were pleading at him for peace and then a second after, closed his own eyes--squeezed them shut, and cursed Merle for all these gallons of bullshit. With one final breath, he dropped the crossbow, dumping Rick and shaking his tentacles free of it.

He grabbed a rag from T-Dog and turned, placed Merle’s hand in the center and started rolling it. Once done, he walked over to Glenn and placed the hand inside the backpack, heard Glenn murmur that he would rather be holding the octopus. Not that Daryl gave one shit what he wanted.

Daryl looked around and saw the other door of the roof open, the blood trail leading there. He sighed and pointed the tip of the crossbow at Rick, but without his hand on the trigger. Rick blinked and Daryl said, “come on,” and then the octopus was climbing onto the crossbow and then skipping across it up Daryl’s arm and bicep to his shoulder. Rick wrapped his tentacles loosely around Daryl’s neck for purchase and Daryl adjusted the crossbow to be ready for danger and headed forward.

***

They passed through the building and entered the office where Merle had killed two Walkers, found the stove where he had cauterized his wound, and examined the window he had crawled out of. Glenn and T-Dog argued that it was too dangerous to keep searching for Merle, but Daryl wouldn’t have any of it and while the octopus on his shoulder tried to slap him to get him to stop, they still ended up spending hours searching in nearby buildings and coming up empty handed. Eventually, an unhappy and dejected Daryl agreed to go for the bag of guns and Glenn led them to the tank that Rick had crawled out of. The bag was sitting rather innocently in the middle of the street and they picked it up along with the sheriff's hat that Rick had dropped.

On their way back to the van, they passed a shopping center that ended in a grocery store. Daryl paused for a second and stared at the glass doors propped open, no sound coming from inside. The squirrels would last them for the day, but what about tomorrow? With Merle gone, Daryl didn’t know what his role in the group was or if he was even going to stay with them. But he did know that they needed food and it was right here. He pointed it out and the others nodded. They split up, T-Dog keeping the bag of guns and Daryl depositing Rick by his feet.

Glenn and Daryl approached the store and went in, finding it to be mostly picked clean. But mostly was far different than completely and they picked up leftover cans of vegetables, soup, and ravioli. Daryl even took a spin down the canned meats aisle and paused as he stared at what he had really come here for, tins left dusty on the shelves. They piled the supplies into Glenn’s backpack right next to Merle’s rolled-up hand and headed back to T-Dog and Rick, Daryl scooping up Rick in a way that was getting familiar. They found the van easily again and headed home.

On the ride back, Daryl sat in the corner again and Rick sat beside him, tentacles held on to Daryl’s ankle so that he wouldn’t slide. Daryl picked up the sheriff's hat, rotating it in his hand. He smiled just slightly and dumped it on Rick’s head, the octopus body mostly swallowed by the hat, but the tentacles splayed around it. Rick “plubbed” and used one of the tentacles to tilt the hat backwards so that he could peek out from underneath it. “Wobu gaple? Pleba...pleba obau buo…” But Daryl had no idea what he had just said, so he shook his head and sat back against the van, closing his eyes and trying hard not to think about how alone he was in the group now, about how Merle was dead or even if he wasn’t, how he wouldn’t be finding Daryl anytime soon.

***

The camp was calm when they arrived back from the city. Shane sighed a huge breath of relief as octopus Rick slid out of the back of the van, but Lori had another reaction--grabbing Carl around the shoulders and bringing him inside her tent. Daryl rolled his eyes at the drama. What was the problem? So the man was now a sea creature. Big deal. The dead were walking and eating, too.

But Daryl wasn’t in any mood to deal with any of that bullshit, so he left Rick with the others and let them tell the story of Merle’s hand and the bag of guns. For the rest of the evening, he stayed away, brooding over the fact that Merle was no longer here and trying hard to decide if he himself wanted to stay. When dinner came along, Andrea and Carol cooked up the squirrels from earlier and added in the canned corn and tomatoes they had found to make a stew. The whole camp sat down to eat, Daryl on the outskirts with his relatively full bowl.

Daryl watched from a distance as Lori and Shane talked, their mouths smiling softly in the direction of one another and Rick nowhere to be found. No one else was paying them attention, but Daryl knew. It was fucking obvious if you were looking. Andrea walked around and started handing out rations of water and soon Dale began a philosophical conversation which got most everyone to start chattering away and the group descended into talking about the use of art in society.

Daryl went back to focusing on his squirrel meat until he heard a little squish beside him. He looked down and Rick was there, slid up to him in the darkness. “Hey,” Daryl said.

“Boop,” Rick responded and drew figures in the dirt with his tentacle, his head downcast.

Daryl frowned. “Think you can eat squirrel?” he asked and held out a piece of meat to Rick. Rick made a face at Daryl (Daryl wondered how exactly he could TELL that an octopus was making a face at him, but whatever) and turned away. Daryl nodded. “Thought so.” He stood and set his bowl down on the log he had been perched on and walked across to the stores of food that they had brought back. He picked up the couple of tins he had rummaged from earlier and walked back over to Rick.

Rick looked at him and tilted his head in question. Daryl quirked one corner of his mouth up. “Here you go, buddy,” he said and popped open a tin, setting it down in the grass beside Rick. Rick’s little eyes lit up and he reached inside the tin, holding up one of the sardines that was housed in it to show Daryl as if Daryl didn’t know. He screwed up his eyes in what Daryl could only hope was happiness. Daryl chuckled. “Thought you might like it.” He shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you got something to eat.”

Rick gurgled in joy and shoved the sardine into his beak. He did a little wiggly thing and Daryl wasn’t sure if it was supposed to be bouncing or a dance or a little of both, but it suddenly hit Daryl as massively _cute_ and he just shook his head and picked up his own dinner, sitting down to finish it. “So this ever happen to you before?” Daryl asked.

Rick looked up at him, two sardines in two tentacles and a third halfway to his beak. “Pou,” he said.

“Is ‘pou’ no?” Daryl asked and Rick nodded.

“Ub,” he said and started shoving more sardines in. “Opu bau wodu blu.”

“Yeah,” Daryl told him, “I’m not getting any of that.”

Rick’s body expanded and then contracted in a huge sigh. He looked around at their forest surroundings and the low light coming from the fire, searching for something.

“Why you think it happened?” Daryl asked.

Rick looked up at him and blinked. He looked around himself again and then grabbed a stick in his tentacle and proceeded to write in the dirt. “Angry,” he wrote.

Daryl grunted. “Guess you were pretty pissed, there. But I was, too. Didn’t turn into no sea monster.”

Rick slapped his knee hard. Daryl chucked. “ _Octopus_ , I mean.”

Rick nodded and then wrote something else. “Felt strange.”

Daryl furrowed his brow and shoved a piece of tomato into his mouth. “The anger?”

“Ub,” Rick said and sat there fidgeting with his tentacles.

“So...you turned into a rage octopus.” Daryl chuckled. “Literally.”

Rick glared at him, but the fact that an octopus was trying to stare him down only made it worse and Daryl belted out in laughter. “You think it will go away soon?” he asked after a beat.

Rick looked up at him with huge octopus eyes and seemed unsure what to do next. After a moment, he picked up his stick. “Don’t know.” He paused and then wrote in the dirt, “Scared.”

Daryl looked down at him, at the tentacles cast out from the body with one clutching the stick for dear life. The sardine can was half empty and Rick wasn’t looking at it or even at Daryl anymore. He made a little blurping sound and Daryl sighed. He reached down and put his hand on Rick’s head. Rick turned and looked up at him. “Hey,” Daryl said. “It’ll be fine. I’m sure you’ll poof back soon.”

Daryl withdrew his hand but before he got it back to his body, Rick reached out and grabbed it. He wrapped his tentacle around Daryl’s palm and squeezed, locking gazes with him. “Toup bo,” Rick said and Daryl didn’t have to ask him if that meant thank you.

***

After their meal, Daryl picked Rick up and deposited him down next to Lori at the octopus’ request. He went and found his own sleeping bag at the edge of the camp and crawled into it, getting nice and comfortable. That night, he didn’t sleep much--the sounds of nocturnal creatures grating on his nerves as he mistook them for Walkers--and by dawn he was more than ready to call the night to an end.

He stood, stretched and grabbed his bow, throwing it over his back, and headed into the center of camp to refill his water bottle before planning to go out into the woods to look for some food for the group. As he straightened his back from bending over to refill the bottle, he paused.

Lori’s tent was fully zipped shut and quiet. But right next to the entrance, curled up on a thin blanket with his tentacles hugging around him for warmth, was Rick. Daryl blinked and sighed, walking over quietly. Rick looked tiny and squishy, all curled in on himself, and Daryl imagined that if he was human, his brow would have been knitted in stress. He looked...lonely. And Daryl hated Lori just a little bit more.

Daryl reached out with his boot and tapped the octopus, toeing him until he snapped his eyes open. Rick blinked up at him and there was such a depth of emotional storms reflected in his eyes that Daryl had to take a breath despite himself. “Mornin’,” Daryl said.

“Yuib,” Rick said.

“You sleep out here all night?”

Rick slapped at the ground weakly and brought two tentacles up to shrug. “Ub.”

“Hmm,” Daryl said when what he really wanted to say was ‘that bitch.’ Instead, though, he took a sip of his water. “Want to come down to the quarry with me?” he asked, switching his plans easily. “Could catch some fish.”

Rick seemed to brighten up a little at that. “Ub!” he said and then stood on four of his tentacles, lifting up the others to Daryl. “Plep!”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Plep means ‘up’, doesn’t it?”

Rick screwed up his eyes in an octopus smile. “Ub.”

Daryl sighed, but reached down and grabbed Rick, putting him on his shoulder. Rick gurgled and then moved, sliding up Daryl’s neck, and before Daryl could get out a “hey!” Rick was perched on the top of his head, his tentacles hanging down over Daryl’s face like a second set of hair. Daryl slanted his eyes up and Rick made a little blurping sound and craned his head down so that their eyes met. “You’re a dick,” Daryl said, but grabbed one of Dale’s fishing poles and started walking.

This early no one else was up, so the quarry was all theirs. Daryl picked an isolated spot that was good to see Walkers coming if needed, but also served as some form of privacy if the girls woke up and started doing laundry. He set Rick down in the shallow end of the water and watched him swim into a deep part and submerge himself. Daryl smiled and started digging in the dirt around him for worms and when he found one, he hooked it onto the fishing pole. He waited until Rick popped out of the water and called to him that he was going to cast the pole downstream so that Rick didn’t get ahold of it. Rick blurped at him happily and submerged himself again and Daryl cast out to the left, far away from Rick.

Daryl leaned back and sighed, happy for the Georgia sun and for the quietness of the morning. Here, sitting on the bank, he could almost pretend that the apocalypse hadn’t happened, that things like jobs and traffic still existed, that Merle was just waiting up for him at home while he went on a fishing trip, that Rick was his buddy he was hanging out with and not a weird man/octopus creature.

But then Rick broke the surface, his eyes sparkling happily and one tentacle held up with a fish in it, and Daryl started to wonder what this scenario had that the one in his head didn’t. He smiled at Rick and gave him a thumbs-up and Rick moved to put the fish in his beak before he paused. He sat there for a second and then stretched the fish that was still wriggling out to Daryl.

Daryl quirked his lips up. “Thanks,” he said and took the fish, pulling out his knife and slicing off the head. Rick made a happy gurgling sound when Daryl tossed him the head part and after eating it, he submerged himself again. Daryl left his pole sitting in the sand and stood up, gathered a couple of logs and sticks around him and used his lighter to begin a fire. He speared the fish that Rick had given him with a stick and set it to cooking.

They stayed like that for a good hour, Rick bobbing in and out of the water, catching fish and Daryl using the fishing pole. Daryl caught four fish and set them down into a pile and when his one was finished cooking, he pulled it off and ate it, peeling back the flaky insides. As he finished eating, Rick pulled himself out of the deep end and sat down in the shallows, just his tentacles submerged and still right next to Daryl.

Daryl smiled and slipped his foot into the water next to Rick and Rick grabbed his ankle, his tentacle sliding around it and his suckers latching on. “Used to do this with Merle sometimes,” Daryl said and then shook his head. “Not the octopus part. Fishing. He was pretty good at it. Too much of a talker, though.”

Rick blooped and then motioned for a stick next to Daryl’s hip. Daryl grabbed it and handed it over and Rick wrote in the sand. “Sorry about Merle.”

Daryl shrugged. “Fine,” he said. “I mean, it’s not fine. But I get that he was being an ass and it was all his fault.”

Rick paused and then wrote, “My fault.”

Daryl stared down at him and shook his head. “You thought he was a danger.”

Rick shrugged: “Still sorry,” he wrote.

“Well, thanks,” Daryl said and scooted closer, going crosslegged next to the water. “You know, I get it. Being an outcast.” Rick looked up at him and then turned away, slapping weakly at the water. Daryl continued. “I’m just saying...it takes time for dumbasses to get used to different things. They’ll come around.”

Rick shrugged and then said quietly…“pou.”

“They will,” Daryl assured him.

Rick picked up his stick and moved to write, but then thought better of it. He stared at the wood and sighed and then slowly put the point down in the sand and drew out, “cheating.”

Daryl stared at the word. “Lori?”

“...ub,” Rick said and dropped the stick.

“Yeah,” Daryl said, figuring that there’s no good hiding it. “Sorry.”

Rick shrugged and then expanded and deflated. “Houba,” he said.

“Houba?” Daryl asked. Rick picked up the stick. “Scared,” he wrote.

“Hey,” Daryl said and then reached down, scooped Rick up in both hands. Rick let his tentacles droop listlessly around Daryl’s skin and drops of water cascaded off the limbs to drip into the water. Rick stared into Daryl’s eyes. “Let’s make a deal, okay? No matter what, let’s stay together. Friends, right? No matter if you stay an octopus or if you change back. Fuck your wife. I got you.”

Rick reached out carefully and slid his tentacles up Daryl’s arm. The suckers caught on his skin and Daryl shivered, thinking about what it would be like to have Rick’s hands there, to be staring into Rick’s unfathomably blue eyes instead of the black ones of the octopus. “Toup bo,” Rick said.

Daryl quirked the corner of his mouth up. “You’re welcome. I don’t mind being the crazy redneck fucker with the octopus. I’ll make sure you’re not alone.” He dropped Rick into his lap and Rick made a gurgling sound and adjusted himself over Daryl’s knees. “Let’s get some more fish, shall we? Don’t want to go back to camp with fewer than ten.”

***

Daryl gathered the fish that they caught and picked up Rick, depositing him on the top of his head. Rick made a gurgling sound that Daryl was beginning to associate with happiness and let his tentacles hang down around Daryl’s ears. Daryl smiled despite himself and tried to squelch the growing concern he was having that he might be starting to _like_ the damn octopus.

He grabbed the fishing pole in one hand, the string of fish in the other, and started back for the camp. As he rounded a rocky outcropping, though, he came face-to-face with Carol and everything happened lightning fast. Despite herself, Carol let out a gasp of a yell and that noise must have startled Rick, who hadn’t been paying attention to where they were going because all of the sudden a squeaky scream was leaving the octopus and he was clinging with all of his many suckers to Daryl’s neck and then suddenly...Daryl’s head felt very, very wet.

“ _Rick_ ,” Daryl growled out, “did you just _ink on me_?”

The tentacles very slowly popped off of Daryl’s neck and Daryl could feel the little indents left behind. From the top of his head, Rick said, “...ub.” And then, “obau.”

“I’m going to _assume_ that means sorry,” Daryl said angrily and thrust the fish at Carol. “Here, take these. I’m going to go clean the _octopus ink out of my hair_.”

Carol very gingerly took the fish and Daryl stomped back to the other side of the quarry away from her. “Goddammit,” he told Rick as he toed off his boots. “You ain’t going to say _nothin’ about nothin’_ , you hear me? I got to wash this out and it’s all your fault.” He started fumbling with his belt because he sure wasn’t going to get all of his clothes wet and Rick launched himself off of Daryl’s head into the water, making a big show of using his tentacles to cover his eyes. Daryl growled. “Thanks for the privacy, at least,” he said as he stripped himself down.

He started wading in the water and when it got up to his chest, he stopped and blinked down at the clear blue reflection staring back at him. His hair was black--incredibly, utterly night black. And to add insult to injury, there were little circles of sucker hickeys lined up all around his neck and collarbone. He rolled his eyes. _OCTOPUSES_.

He stepped out further into the water and dove, running his fingers through his hair and feeling the inky nightmare dissipating into the clear water around him. He broke the surface and looked down at the pile of black ink now floating away and a very bashful little octopus staring at him from a distance--his little cheeks tinged purple and who knew that octopuses could blush? “Come on over, then,” Daryl said, even though he was self-conscious of Rick seeing his body. “I forgive you.”

Rick blurped and swam closer and said softly again, “Obau.” As Daryl dipped his head back into the water, he felt tentacles sliding up around his scalp and then, incredibly, Rick was massaging the ink out of his hair, washing in for him between his suckers. Daryl grunted in surprise and a wave of pleasure, too, as Rick’s massaging left those nice little tingles across his scalp that he could only get at the barber’s if he was lucky. Rick kept washing and babbled something else and Daryl just hmmed along at it, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the outside world.

And then the tentacles slipped to his chest and Daryl froze. He opened his eyes quickly and saw Rick staring at his midsection, one tentacle over a scar there. Daryl frowned. “It’s nothing,” he said and Rick blurped at him. Rick ran his tentacle over the scar and then Daryl watched as his beady eyes took in the others.

“...obau,” Rick said.

Daryl shrugged. “Is what it is.”

Rick let out a string of little noises and when it was clear that Daryl wasn’t getting any of it, he huffed in annoyance. He pointed at Daryl and said, “Houba?”

“Scared?” Daryl qualified and when Rick said ‘ub,’ he continued. “No. Not anymore. It was a long time ago.”

“Ub,” Rick said and then pointed at Daryl again. “Nu aleb oplu plo,” he said and when Daryl didn’t get it, Rick slid forward. He put his head on Daryl’s chest and wrapped his tentacles around Daryl and Daryl realized rather belatedly that he was swimming in the middle of a quarry with an octopus _hugging_ him.

“Okay,” Daryl said. “Okay, I get it.” He pushed Rick off gently and started back toward the bank. “We should get back,” he said and Rick gurgled after him, swimming right by his side.

***

Daryl stepped out of the water and dried off, slipping his clothes back on, and Rick stayed in the depths turned away until Daryl called to him that he was decent. Daryl shook the water out of his freshly cleaned hair and watched as Rick slowly climbed back up onto the bank. “Ready to go?” Daryl asked him and Rick said “ub” quietly and then started walking up the bank, squishing along the land. Daryl frowned. “You want a ride?” he asked Rick.

Rick looked back at him, craning his neck up at Daryl. “Pou,” he said and pointed up at Daryl’s head. “Nu hoplu plo.”

Daryl arched an eyebrow. “You inked me?”

“Ub,” Rick said, nodding fast and seeming flabbergasted that Daryl had understood what he was saying.

Daryl quirked his mouth up and squatted down so that he was close to Rick’s level. “I’ll make a deal with you. Swear you won’t do it again and you can ride on my head.”

Rick looked up at him and shrugged. “Houba,” he said.

Daryl nodded. “I get that you were scared and didn’t mean to. But promise me you’ll try to hold your ink in.”

Rick flopped down in a pile of tentacles with a little squish and shrugged again. “Baubu?”

“You’ll try?”

“Ub?”

“Okay,” Daryl said. “Pinky-promise that you’ll try.” He held his pinky finger out to Rick and watched as Rick wrapped just the tip of his tentacle around it and shook it.

“Plep?” Rick asked and arched his tentacles up.

Daryl smiled. “Yeah. Plep.” He picked Rick up and sat him on his head and waited until Rick squished around into just the comfortable spot. Rick looked down and put his tentacle over one of the sucker hickeys on Daryl’s neck.

“Obau,” he said.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Thanks for that. Going to have a hard time explaining it.” Rick blurped that he was sorry again, but Daryl waved him off and started to climb up the hill back to camp.

When he arrived, several of the camp members were starting to clean the fish that Carol had brought back and Lori was over at a makeshift table, washing the dishes that they would need to cook lunch. Daryl approached her and Lori took one look at the octopus on his head and went board straight.

“You shouldn’t be hanging around him,” she said, and for a moment Daryl wasn’t sure if she was talking to Rick or to him. “He could be contagious,” she explained, making eye contact with Daryl. “I don’t think it’s wise for us to touch him too much.” She made a pointed look at Daryl’s neck and wet hair, shaking her head and returning to the fork she was scrubbing. Nestled in his hair, Daryl felt Rick’s body expand and deflate in a sigh.

“You’re making him sad,” Daryl told Lori and Lori looked up at him with wide eyes.

“He’s an _octopus_ ,” Lori told him as if Daryl hadn’t keyed into that fact. “I don’t know if he _can_ feel sad.”

Daryl scoffed. “What the hell are you talking about? He’s the same damn guy, he’s just...squishy.”

Lori arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow that Daryl wanted to rip off her face. “You didn’t know my husband before this. How do you know he’s the same guy?”

Daryl grunted and shrugged. “Can still communicate. Still has some damn feelings.”

Lori looked up at Rick with a look of disgust on her face. “I don’t even know if it’s _intelligent_.”

“HUBULE PLO!” Rick said and Daryl would have bet all of Merle’s stash that he had just said ‘fuck you.’

“He can write,” Daryl told her. “Here.” He picked up Rick and tossed him to Lori. “I’ll go get a stick.” But apparently Lori’s reaction to an octopus flying through the air was not what Daryl’s reaction would have been--to open his arm and catch it. Instead, Lori screamed loud and clear into the morning air and smacked Rick down. Daryl watched in horror as she lifted her foot as if to squish him, but managed to _just_ catch herself. Rattled, she looked at Daryl in horror and then fled.

Daryl blinked and from the ground, a poor little sad thumping noise came from Rick and Daryl looked down to see Rick flattened out like a pancake in fear and...and inky black octopus tears. _Fuck_ , Daryl said to himself and reached down, scooping Rick up in his arms. “Hey, Rick, I’m sorry,” he said, holding the octopus to his chest. “Really. I didn’t think she would...shit. Don’t cry.”

“...gu uabo nuboe huo…” Rick said and while Daryl didn’t know what he was trying to communicate, he could get the general gist. Lori was being a total and utter bitch and when it came down to it, it was _her_ that should have been holding Rick like this. That should have been taking care of him.

“I’ve got you,” Daryl told him. “Promise. And I won’t throw you at anyone again. That was a real dick move.”

Rick made a little noise that Daryl could swear was a sniffle and looked up at him. “Ubaluel?”

“Really,” Daryl said. “Promise. Won’t let you go.”

Rick nodded slowly. “Toup bo,” he said.

***

After the Lori incident, Daryl thought that the best thing for Rick was to get busy doing some kind of work for the camp, so he offered to help the girls clean fish. He broke them down and gave the cleaned parts to Rick and gave Rick a board and two knives to cut them up with. Rick spun the little knives in his tentacles and got to work, smashing down the fish meat into bite sized pieces. But then...well...he got a little too invested and started hammering the fish down into mush, his little beady eyes slid almost closed in concentration and his tentacles whirling at a hundred miles an hour.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Daryl said and reached over for Rick, “maybe that’s enough with the knives.”

Rick whipped around with the two knives held in the air for defense and two other tentacles up and ready for popping. “Whoa!” Daryl said and held up his hands, soaking in the nightmarish vision of an octopus with knives.

Rick seemed to come back to himself and looked at the utensils clutched in his limbs. He expanded and deflated. “Obau,” he said and held out the knives for Daryl to take. Daryl took them and looked down at the mess of mushed up fish. “Food’s still food, I guess,” he said.

He was about to pick Rick up and take him somewhere to calm down, when Shane approached them (and god, was Daryl happy he’d taken the knives away).

“Hey, Rick,” Shane said. “Lori told me what happened. Think we should talk about it.” He gave Daryl and up-and-down judgemental glance. “In private.”

Rick made a blurping sound. “POU!” he said and tangled up his tentacles like crossing arms across his chest.

“...I don’t know what that means,” Shane said.

“Means no,” Daryl filled in, helpfully.

Shane scoffed. “What, you speak octopus now?”

Daryl shrugged. “I’m learning.”

“Whatever. Come on, Rick,” Shane said. He reached for him, but Rick exploded into a ball of rage, slapping at Shane’s hands and when Shane tried to calm him down, pummeling his face with a tangle of suckers until Shane was yelling “JESUS CHRIST!” and Rick was trying to get two tentacles wrapped around Shane’s neck.

“Whoa, buddy,” Daryl said and scooped Rick up, pulling him away from Shane. Shane stared incredulously at the two of them.

“HUBULE PLO!” Rick yelled pointing hard at Shane. “Nubpablu baohdu hu do TO! HUBULE! PLO! Mubulabuou pluhu opeiu bobleto! Loubadu SHU PLUDU.”

Shane stood with his mouth open in confusion and shock and looked up at Daryl for help. Daryl shrugged. “Not real sure what he said, but I’m guessing it was some version of ‘fuck you, you’re sleeping with my wife and also you don’t care about me.’”

“UB!” Rick said, arching forward in Daryl’s hands toward Shane.

“Ub means yes.”

“Yeah, Daryl, _thanks_ ,” Shane bit back. “I could have got that part.”

“Pou obau,” Rick said.

“He’s not sorry,” Daryl translated.

“Ploub hun nubad.”

“You’re a dick.”

“UB!”

Rick waved his tentacles in anger at Shane and then scrambled up Daryl’s chest to his head. He turned away from Shane and crossed his tentacles, effectively ending the conversation. Daryl just shrugged at Shane. “Sorry, man. Think he wants to go.”

Daryl turned to leave and when that brought Shane back into view of Rick, Rick made a little pfffting sound that sounded strangely like someone sticking their tongue out.

Daryl rolled his eyes and walked with Rick into the woods, finding a nice little quiet clearing far enough away from camp. He sat down with his back to a large oak and pulled Rick off his head, sitting Rick down beside his knee. Rick plubbed and picked up a rock with his tentacles and started smashing dirt and twigs and leaves around him. Daryl listened to the quiet crashing sounds of octopus anger and tried his best not to smile at how he could almost see the steam pouring off of Rick’s skin.

“Sorry they’re dicks,” Daryl told him.

Rick launched into another long spiel of sounds and Daryl just listened to him plub away until Rick finally calmed down and with one large movement, tossed the rock far away. Rick turned around to face Daryl and flopped down in a sea of tentacles. He expanded and deflated. “Ploub nui mubi,” he said.

Daryl looked around him and grabbed a stick, holding it out for Rick. “Think you’ll have to write that.”

Rick sighed again and picked up the stick, looking at it disgustedly. “Communication frustrating,” he wrote and Daryl nodded.

“Yeah, I get it. Is that what you just said, though? I thought plou was you’re.”

Rick blinked up at him. “UB!” he said and wrote in the dirt. “You’re my friend.”

Daryl smiled. “Say it again.”

Rick screwed up his eyes and gurgled in happiness. “Ploub nui mubi.”

Daryl nodded and rested his head back against the tree. “Ploub nui mubi, too,” he said and the space under Rick’s eyes turned the smallest tinge of purple. “Why don’t we just lay here for awhile? We can calm down and get back to our center.” Daryl hummed. “Maybe even take a nap. Seems nice and quiet out here.” He pointed around them. “Would hear Walkers crashing around from any distance.”

Rick gurgled and climbed up in Daryl’s lap, splaying his tentacles out and resting his head against Daryl’s stomach. Daryl smiled and thought that he was really walking on dangerous territory here, but he had to _try_ to turn the angry-pus into a happy-pus. So he reached down gingerly and found a space right where Rick’s body melted into tentacles and he started to move his fingers feather light over the surface in just the same way he used to do Merle’s feet when Merle was a teenager and he was a kid and he wanted Merle to wake up and cook bacon. And lo and behold, the tickling _worked_. Rick squirmed and started making squishy noises and then Daryl blinked in surprise as Rick _honked_ and who knew that octopus laughter sounded like a freaking goose and then Rick was slapping at him to stop, but still honking and that made Daryl just laugh along with him and man, Daryl thought to himself, what a wonderful way to spend an afternoon. Something within Daryl felt warm and squishy himself as he smiled at Rick and pulled his hands away, listening to the fading honk sounds. Rick blinked up at him and smiled his screwy-eyed octopus smile. He laid his head on Daryl’s stomach and again and splayed his tentacles across Daryl’s chest, inflating and deflating again--but this time in happiness.  
***

Near sunset, Daryl decided that they had to go back, but Rick protested to the point that he started scampering out of Daryl’s range when Daryl tried to pick him up. This got him five more minutes in the woods, but ultimately Daryl gave up on trying to chase the fast little octopus fucker and just shrugged and started back to the camp on his own. A squishy little blurping sound happened behind him and then Daryl’s ankle was caught and wrapped in tentacles. But really, Daryl had the extreme weight advantage, so he just kept walking along, dragging a protesting octopus through the dirt and leaves. Rick plubed and blubbered at him, but to no avail and then started shaking his head when Daryl’s steps left him covered in twigs and brambles. Eventually, Daryl took pity on him and reached down, picked Rick up and dusted him off. Rick stopped protesting and instead wrapped his tentacles around Daryl’s arm as Daryl carried him back.

When they reached the camp, it was supper time and they were already passing out bowls of leftover stew. Daryl took his and sat away from the group again and he picked up a fish from earlier that had been saved instead of eaten and gave it to Rick to eat. They sat there chewing in relative silence until Shane looked up from the fire and motioned to Rick.

“You don’t have to,” Daryl told him, but Rick just plubbed and shrugged two of his tentacles. He started scampering away toward Shane, but paused halfway there. He lifted a tentacle and waved. “Obu plubie.”

“Good night,” Daryl responded, smiling, and watched the cherry red cephalopod rush across the ground toward Shane. Daryl tried hard not to listen to the angry words that Shane was saying or the distressed noises of the octopus and figured it was none of his business getting into the middle of things. He would just let Rick be.

After quickly finishing his meal, he stood up and headed toward his sleeping bag, slipping into it and hoping that this night would be better than the last. He stared at the stars above him, dulled slightly by the campfire not too far off, and thought about Rick.

He didn’t _mean_ to think about Rick of course. But it just kind of...happened. He couldn’t stop thinking about the little gurgles he made when he was happy or the honking noise when he laughed. He thought about how sad Rick was when Lori almost stomped him and how anyone could cheat on that anyway. And he thought a lot about human Rick too--his summer blue eyes and the curls at the back of his head. He’d only seen him in that damn ass baggy shirt, but he thought he’d probably look damn good underneath it and he imagined his hands catching in curls, his mouth curving over Rick’s and Rick sighing and letting him in, Daryl pulling him into his lap and Rick’s hands roaming all over Daryl’s body, touching skin-to-skin…

Son of a bitch, Daryl thought, and huffed at himself. It couldn’t be doing this. There was no way in hell he could be having _feelings_ for an _octopus_. He grumbled to himself and rolled over onto his side. He hoped that Rick turned human again. And he hoped that when Rick _did_ turn human again he would remember how Daryl had treated him, how he had taken care of him, how they had felt so comfortable together and free. Maybe...just maybe...when Rick turned back, he would kiss Daryl. He would realize the connection, too.

And if he didn’t turn back? Daryl sighed. He didn’t have _sexual_ feelings for the mass of tentacles and he sure as _hell_ wasn’t going to let Rick touch any of his south bits with those suckers. But damn if he didn’t have romantic feelings for him. And damn if he wasn’t going to hold his promise to Rick--that no matter what, Daryl would take care of him. That they would be together.

Daryl sighed and closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep. He was so utterly, _utterly_ fucked.

***

Daryl was in that nice in-between stage of sleep where he wasn’t quite awake, but not quite asleep either, when he heard a squish land right next to his head and a tentacle starting tapping his forehead. Daryl grunted and blinked his eyes open, saw Rick in front of him in the moonlight, his little eyes watching Daryl.

“Boop,” Rick said.

“Hey,” Daryl said in response, smiling.

Rick looked at the ground and started kicking a pebble around with his tentacle. “Ubau oplub tuo godo ubie.”

“Lori kick you out again?” Daryl asked.

Rick expanded and deflated. “Ub.”

“Want to sleep with me?” Daryl asked and tried to beat down the multiple interpretations of that, tried a little too hard not to think about the way that Rick’s human jawline would taste in his mouth.

“Ub,” Rick said, looking hopeful.

Daryl unzipped his sleeping bag a little more and opened a flap for Rick. “There’s not much room, but come on if you want to.”

Rick gurgled happily and slid inside, curling up next to Daryl’s chest covered only by his sleeveless shirt and splaying his tentacles all over the place--from Daryl’s stomach all the way up to his neck. Daryl smiled at the feeling of comfort that it brought him to have Rick right next to him and told Rick to watch his tentacles as Daryl zipped the flap back up.

Rick snuggled in and said, “toup bo,” happily. They both closed their eyes and stilled under the stars. After a second, right when Daryl was starting to go to sleep again, he heard a noise that sounded an awful lot like a balloon being quickly deflated. He knitted his brow in confusion and looked down, seeing Rick still across his chest. He watched as the octopus’ skin expanded slightly and then smoothed out again when the air left him. “Huuuuuuurrrrrr,” Rick said and Daryl bit his lip to keep from laughing at the fact that the octopus was _snoring_.

***

Daryl woke up to the bright sunlight filtering down through the trees and the feel of suckers pressed to his skin through his shirt. He looked down in the sleeping bag and saw that Rick was still there, in the same position as the night before, cuddled up to his chest, his tentacles splayed out everywhere.

Daryl smiled despite himself. He was happy because _Rick_ was happy. And octopus or human or whatever Rick would end up being, Daryl felt just the smallest bit more at peace knowing that he was going to be in his life. Daryl reached down with his finger and touched the top of the octopus’s head lightly, tapping him awake. Rick blinked and looked up at him sleepily and gurgled in happiness. “Boop,” Daryl said and Rick squinted his eyes in a smile.

“Boop,” he said back and then stretched out his tentacles before bringing them in to curl around Daryl’s chest. “Woobu,” he said.

Daryl chuckled. “Comfortable?” he clarified.

“Ub,” Rik said and snuggled into his shirt. “Woobu.”

Before Daryl’s mind could catch up with his mouth, he said, “It’s a good thing that you’re not human right now, or I would kiss you.”

Rick snapped his eyes up to Daryl and blinked at him and Daryl felt his face go all kinds of red. “...sorry.” He said. “Um...sorry. Obau.”

Rick studied him for a moment and then brought one tentacle up to where his mouth would be. “Kuob huo?”

Daryl blushed scarlet. “Kiss you, yeah.”

Rick looked up at Daryl with wide eyes. He let a string of complicated sounds go and Daryl quickly lost the thread of what he was trying to say. “Hey, look, it’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I get it.” He pointed at Rick. “Straight as a highway in Kansas.”

Rick blinked rapidly and then said softly, “Pou.”

“...no?” Daryl asked.

“Ub,” Rick said. “Pou.” He shook his head. He pointed to himself and then started to draw weird little curves into the little space between them.

“So you’re not straight?” Daryl asked.

“Ub,” Rick said.

“You’re...what? Bisexual?”

Rick looked him in the eye and made a little shrugging motion. “...ub.”

Daryl nodded, not sure what to say to that. In the end, he shrugged himself. “I’m gay. Should have told you that before you went and slept in my bed.”

Rick blinked. “Ulu,” he said.

“What’s ‘ulu’?” Daryl asked.

Rick thought for a moment and then reached forward and grabbed Daryl’s thumb with one of his tentacles, making it into a thumb’s up motion. “Good?” Daryl asked. “It’s good?”

“Ub,” Rick said and dropped Daryl’s hand. He fidgeted with his tentacles and then looked up and down Daryl’s body. He lifted his limbs and started wiggling them in the air.

It took Daryl a moment to click into what he was asking, but when he did, he exclaimed quickly, “Oh! Oh. No. No. I’m not into...don’t stick any of those things in my ass.”

Rick stopped wiggling his tentacles and pulled them quickly to his body. “Obau,” he said.

Daryl blinked down at him. “I mean...sorry, but I’m not into...tentacle sex. Are...are you?”

“POU!” Rick said quickly and blushed purple. He shook his head. “Pou, pou. U…nuoh io plu ulupu hui...” Rick pointed slowly at Daryl and wiggled a tentacle.

Daryl frowned. “If...if I wanted...oh. Only if I wanted to? You’d do that for me?”

“...ub,” Rick said in a small little squishy voice. He lifted one tentacle and waved it again and when Daryl went into a chorus of “oh god, no, I didn’t mean I wanted to,” Rick’s beady eyes got wide. And then suddenly, the octopus shot out of the sleeping bag.

“Rick!” Daryl called, but it was too late. Rick was already halfway back to camp, his tentacles moving liquid fast. Daryl blinked after him and sighed hard. “Well,” he told the empty sleeping bag. “That could have gone better.”

***

When Daryl finally got the nerve to get out of bed and wander into camp, Rick studiously avoided him and Daryl could definitely understand why. So instead of hanging out and making the octopus feel uncomfortable, Daryl grabbed the fishing gear again and headed down to the quarry. When he got there, Andrea and Amy were already out on the water in a canoe that they must have also borrowed from Dale, but Daryl still managed to find a place that was secluded from prying eyes. He cast his pole into the water and stayed there for the rest of the morning.

When lunch hit, he grilled a couple of fish for himself and stretched, took a long walk around the quarry with his crossbow and managed to snag a rabbit that had wandered within his sights. And then the afternoon found him back to fishing.

The day was getting rather late, actually, when he heard the distinct sounds of pitter-patter squishing against the sand and glanced up to see Rick coming into view. Rick looked up at him and then blushed a little. “Boop,” he said and waved.

Daryl grunted. “Hey,” he said and watched as the octopus climbed forward and splayed out next to him. “U…” Rick fiddled with the sand, swiping his tentacles over it and creating little zigzags in the surface. “...plo...kuob huo?” Rick asked.

Daryl blinked and went through his rapidly expanding plub dictionary: plu--you, huo--me, kuob….kiss? “You want me to kiss you?” Daryl asked.

Rick blushed again and beat at the sand. “Ub,” he said softly.

Daryl blinked. “Why?”

Rick shrugged and then picked up a nearby twig. “Change to human,” he wrote.

Daryl furrowed his brow. “Change to...Rick, I am not kissing you so you can grow two legs again. This isn’t a damn fairy tale.” He huffed. “Why do you think that would work anyway?”

Rick blinked at him, emotion swirling in his eyes and Daryl thought he could see a hint of that downcast and crying face that Rick had had when he thought Lori was going to stomp him. He swallowed and watched Rick write out very carefully: “Happy opposite of angry.” Rick didn’t look at Daryl, instead glaring at the words in front of him. Daryl stared at them, too, thinking what he was sure Rick was thinking...kissing Daryl would make Rick happy. Kissing Daryl might make Rick happy enough to break through his transformation, an emotion powerful enough to overcome the unnatural rage he had felt before. Daryl swallowed again.

With a burst of emotion, Rick threw the stick away and Daryl watched as it landed with a soft plop in the water. Rick reached down with four of his tentacles and started disrupting the sand, his little suckers brushing quickly over the words and erasing them down to nothing. Rick blubbed unhappily and stood up on his tentacles, turning to putter away.

“Hey!” Daryl called after him and Rick stopped and turned back around slowly, but refused to make eye contact with Daryl. “I’m not flipping you up and kissing your beak.”

Rick ever so slowly slid his eyes up to Daryl and Daryl blinked at him. “So, um...tell me where else to kiss you.”

Rick kicked at the sand weakly and then stopped in one of his forward motions. He lifted his tentacle up to expose the suckers underneath it and held out one tentacle to Daryl. “Ulu?” he asked.

Daryl smiled softly. “Sure,” he said and reached forward, brushing the sand off of the sucker so he wouldn’t get grit in his mouth. “I’ll kiss you on your sucker.” And then Daryl did--he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Rick’s little sucker, felt the smoothness of the appendage clinging to his mouth. He even closed his eyes for a second and hoped that Rick could really feel what he wanted to convey--that if Rick was human, they would be mouth-to-mouth, chest-to-chest, skin-to-skin. Daryl wasn’t sure what it felt like when an octopus shivered, but he thought that this might have been it and then he was pulling away and staring at the still-octopus beside him. Daryl sighed. A sucker kiss was nothing like a real kiss and there was still so much more to be desired.

He scooped up Rick and brought him closer and then put his lips on Rick’s forehead. “I wish I could really kiss you,” he said. “I...I have feelings for you. Octopus or otherwise. You’re a great guy and you deserve someone to take care of you and...well...love shouldn’t be said after two days, huh? But it’s the apocalypse and things are weird, so...so I have deep feelings for you. I hope you accept them.”

Daryl sat Rick down on the sand again and Rick blinked up at him, his eyes wide and watching. “Nu tubla plo, hui,” Rick said and Daryl smiled.

“You too, huh?” He said and then took Rick’s tentacle in his hand. “Ulu.”

Rick smiled at him, his eyes scrunched up and a little gurgle leaving his body and then, as they stared at each other across the sand and the slow haze of the afternoon sun, Rick _poofed_ just like that and Daryl arched away, blinking, his hand holding the rough skin of another man’s.

Rick coughed and waved away the smoke as it cleared. He blinked and then stared up at Daryl, wide-eyed and shocked. Daryl stared back with just as much shock, his brain belatedly taking in the baggy white shirt Rick was wearing. “R-rick?” Daryl asked and let a little bark of laughter go. “It...it worked. It worked! I didn’t think you would actually become...it worked?”

“Ub,” Rick said in a high voice and then blushed red and coughed to clear his throat. “Yes,” he said, his voice rough from disuse.

Daryl chuckled. “Rick,” he said, drinking in the man’s blue eyes, the feel of his skin in Daryl’s hand, the slight amount of stubble on his jaw. “Rick I--”

“Kiss me,” Rick said, interrupting Daryl. “Just...just kiss me. Before I lose my nerve and start freaking out again.”

Daryl smiled softly and pulled on Rick’s hand in his, jerking Rick forward until he could get his other hand on Rick’s side and pull Rick into his lap. Daryl arched his mouth up and tilted it at just the right angle and then they were kissing, _really_ kissing, Rick sitting in his lap and moaning onto Daryl’s lips. Daryl threaded his fingers up into Rick’s curls and Rick wrapped his arms around Daryl’s back and gasped when Daryl bit down softly on his bottom lip. Daryl took the opportunity and dove in, his tongue meeting Rick’s like fireworks meet the sky and Rick whimpered, opening his mouth and letting Daryl have it.

Daryl tightened his fingers in Rick’s hair, his other hand digging into Rick’s hip and he sighed happily against Rick’s mouth as he pulled just a little bit away. “Happy I get to do that,” he whispered against Rick’s mouth. “Happy you’re human.”

Rick smiled down at him and touched his own fingers to Daryl’s hair. “Happy I am, too. Happy….happy you took care of me. You were the only one that seemed to know it was _me_.”

Daryl quirked one corner of his mouth up in a smile and hmmed at that. “Course you were. It wasn’t like it was anything, really. You were just a damn octopus. I don’t know what all the fuss was about.”

Rick laughed and leaned his forehead against Daryl’s, smiling like a schoolboy. “Tonight...can I slink into your sleeping bag again?”

Daryl grinned and tilted his head up, touching his lips to Rick’s again. “Baby, you can crawl up on me whenever you want. Promise. I promised, didn’t I? We’re going to be together forever. No matter what.”

Rick smiled down at him and Daryl blinked up at the absolutely beauty of it, the sun reflecting in Rick’s clear blue eyes, the water of the quarry lapping at the bank, the afternoon sun just beginning to set, and Rick poised just so perfectly in his lap, his eyes screwed up in a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a note, I imagine that this scene ends the afternoon before the quarry attack and everything that happens afterwards with the CDC and the road, etc, happens mostly the same. If you want to see an octopus version of Rick in Alexandria, go here: [How Am I Going to Be An Octopus About This](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3622287)!
> 
> Tumblr Links:  
> [MAE's Rickyl Fics and Recs](http://maerickyl.tumblr.com/): Where you can find a list of my fanfic, fanfic recs, and snippets of works in progress.  
> [Michelle A. Emerlind](http://michelleaemerlind.tumblr.com/): My general tumblr where I put stuff? And things? And just whatever I want.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Covers for "How Am I Going to Be An Octopus About This" and "Suckers for Happy Endings"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3628734) by [SkariCovers (skarlatha)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarlatha/pseuds/SkariCovers)




End file.
